


Absolution

by clavicular



Category: Demon's Lexicon - Sarah Rees Brennan
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-04
Updated: 2010-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavicular/pseuds/clavicular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick opened the door with his knife drawn. Jamie was standing outside, shaking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the usual suspects, lastwingedthing and vociferocity, for looking this over for me.   
> Written for [goblinmarket_sw](http://community.livejournal.com/goblinmarket_sw/) on lj.

Nick was woken by a knock on the door. He glanced at the clock - midnight. Alan was already reaching for his gun. Nick raised an eyebrow at him, and Alan shrugged in response.

"I'll go," Nick said, heading down the stairs before Alan could stop him.

He opened the door with his knife drawn. Jamie was standing outside, shaking.

It'd been a month since Jamie had left with the magicians. Nick still felt him through the Mark sometimes, a presence in the back of his mind. Nick hated it. Hated the uselessness of it. Jamie was being stupid, and Nick wasn't allowed to stop him. And now Jamie was here staring at him, pale and terrified and silent, and Nick didn't think he had enough words for both of them. But Nick felt something else, too. Raw power, clinging to Jamie like skin. Like blood.

"Magic," Nick said, and didn't care if Jamie heard disgust.

Jamie nodded. Nick watched him for a long moment. Then he stepped back inside.

He held the door open behind him.

*

Alan was waiting in the sitting room. Things were tense now, always, ever since Alan had been… since the battle. They had no solution, and Nick felt trapped without anything to push against.

Alan stiffened as Nick approached.

"Not a threat," Nick said softly.

Alan relaxed slightly, and gave Nick a quizzical look. Then Jamie rounded the corner.

"Jamie!" Alan said, and as Jamie drew level, his features shifted from surprise to concern. "What happened?"

Jamie just stared helplessly at Alan, and began shaking his head.

"Jamie, look at me," Alan said. He reached out, wrapping a hand around Jamie's shoulder. "This is important. Are you in immediate danger?"

Nick snorted. Alan glanced over sharply, questions in his eyes, but Nick said nothing. Alan turned back to Jamie, who was still shaking his head.

"Okay," he said. Then, more gently, "It's alright. You're going to be okay."

He guided Jamie over to the couch, voice carrying on with a stream of soothing, meaningless words. Jamie let himself be pushed down into the seat, and then sat there looking at his hands.

"What happened?" Alan asked again. This time he was looking at Nick.

And Nick didn't have words. He wanted to hurt Jamie. Because of what Jamie had done, what he was becoming, or because of the stupid risks Jamie was taking – Nick didn't know why, and he didn't care. He couldn't be here, trying to put this into words, with blood pounding in his ears and every muscle in his borrowed body ready to spring. But Jamie was so vulnerable, and Nick… Nick wanted to abuse his every weakness. And he couldn't let himself.

Nick took a breath.

"Jamie's using magic," he said. "Someone is possessed, or soon will be, because Jamie needed the power. Or needed to be seen as needing it."

Jamie didn't move, but his careful stillness said enough. Something unreadable flickered across Alan's face. It might have been surprise, or resignation, and Nick thought it shouldn't scare him that he couldn't tell the difference. It was just one more thing Alan kept from him, after all.

"Nick, go make tea," Alan said.

Nick hesitated for a moment, then nodded and stalked off. As he left, he heard Alan speaking to Jamie, low and gentle.

Nick didn't make tea. He stood frozen in the kitchen, hands clenched tight around the bench. Nick couldn't think about this. He wanted to go outside and hit someone, and keep hitting them until he couldn't feel anything else. He wanted to hit Jamie. He wanted someone to hit back.

In the end, he didn't hit anyone. Instead, he put the kettle on to boil. It was a small kind of action, but it was movement. Motions he could put himself through in lieu of thought. He poured two cups and heaped sugar into them both, the way Alan took his tea. Then he carried them back to the lounge room. Alan was still talking when he got back. Nick paused in the doorway.

"We always knew this could happen," Alan was saying, "But it's not your fault."

Jamie hadn't moved since Nick had left. His stillness was like a shield, one Alan was trying to slip past. And Nick knew with sudden certainty that he shouldn't.

"Jamie," Alan said, "It's not your fault. Say it: 'It's not my fault'."

"It's not my fault," Jamie echoed. He looked up helplessly, barriers crumbling around him. "But it is."

And Nick was already moving when Alan said, "You did what you had to. To help people."

Jamie stared at him, mouth opening soundlessly. Nick pushed the two cups into Alan's hands, and turned to Jamie.

"I _killed_ someone," Jamie said.

And Nick said, "Yes."

He threw a punch. With the way Jamie was looking at him, he half expected Jamie to let him. But Jamie blocked.

"Nick!" Alan hissed. "Don't-"

But Nick didn't hear the rest, because Jamie was hitting back. Nick moved with the first blow, then blocked the second. There was no real force behind them, but Nick's blood was racing anyway. He grabbed Jamie's arms and shoved backwards. Jamie fell the way Nick had shown him; impressive in the close space, but Nick barely registered it. Jamie was back on his feet, eyes tracking Nick's movements. Nick smirked.

"You think you're so special?" Nick asked. "You think you're the only person who ever killed someone?"

He shifted slightly, reading to spring. Jamie tensed.

"He didn't have to die," Jamie said.

"No one ever has to die."

Nick lunged. Jamie dodged the blow aimed at his face, but stumbled as Nick's fist caught his side.

"He didn't _deserve_ it," Jamie said, pushing back. Nick held his ground.

"That doesn't make you special," he said, hitting out. Jamie darted backwards, avoiding him.

"You mightn't like what it says about you," Nick added, lashing out again, "but you're not special."

And then Jamie's back was against the wall, and Nick's hand was closing around his throat. Alan was saying something but Nick couldn't hear him – didn't want to hear him.

"Nick," Jamie gasped. His gaze was steady.

Nick dropped his hand.

They stood with their eyes locked, time stretching out between them. Then Jamie shifted, readjusting his jacket, and brushed past Nick. He took a lukewarm cup of tea from Alan, and sat back down on the couch. Alan held himself very still.

"Nick…" he began.

Jamie cut across him. "It's okay, Alan. I… Nick's right."

Alan looked ready to argue, but something in Jamie's face must have stopped him. He nodded slowly.

"I'm going to take a look outside," he said. "Make sure you weren't followed."

Nick scowled. "Don't be stupid. I can do that."

Alan gave him an odd smile. "So can I."

He turned and limped from the room.

Nick watched Alan go. He felt drained and useless.

"Nick," Jamie said abruptly, "how much sugar did you put into this?"

Nick glanced back over at Jamie, who was eyeing his tea suspiciously.

"I don't drink tea," Nick said.

Jamie frowned at his cup. "Obviously."

Nick took a tentative step towards the couch. Jamie nodded towards the doorway.

"You scared him," Jamie said.

Nick felt something awful twisting inside him, at once horrified and viciously pleased.

"I scare a lot of people," he said.

Jamie shook his head. "He was more scared for you than for me. He thought you wouldn't listen to him."

Nick didn't know what to say. Sometimes the truth could cut.

He sat down beside Jamie. "What have you found that can help him?" Nick asked. "Gerald's mark…"

Jamie shrugged, looking somehow smaller than he had been.

"Nothing," he said, wretchedly. "I don't have anything. And I don't… I don't know if…"

"There will be something," Nick said, jaw set. There was no other way.

Jamie didn't answer.

"I have to go back," he said after a while. "I don't know if I can help. Alan, or… or anyone else. But I have to go back."

"You don't," Nick said. "No one has to do anything."

Jamie smiled crookedly.

"Yeah," he said, "but I'm going to. I have to- I _want_ to try."

"You'll have to kill more people."

"No one has to do anything." He was teasing, but his face was pale.

Nick shrugged. "Then they'll kill you."

"I know," Jamie said. "But… _God_, Nick, that doesn't make it right."

"No," Nick agreed.

"Then how can I? I can't do whatever I have to. I'm not that person."

"You are," Nick said. "When you have to be."

Jamie recoiled, horrified. Nick wished he could take it back, even though it was true. He hadn't meant it as a compliment, exactly; it was just a fact. It meant Jamie was strong.

"You're… I know you're right," Jamie said.

Nick hated the way Jamie was looking at him. He searched for a way to explain himself, but he wasn't sure Jamie would want what he could say. He looked away.

"Nick," Jamie said, his voice not quite shaking. "You're not good at this. I know. But I need you to say something right now. Whatever you like."

Nick turned back to him. Jamie looked lost, and Nick didn't know what to give him.

"You're not like me," he said at last. "I don't know if it helps any. But you won't… do whatever it takes in the same way I would."

Jamie frowned slightly, thinking about it.

"Thanks," he said, "but it doesn't really make a difference. Because you're right. I'll go back tomorrow. I don't have to, but I will. I'll go back and keep pretending, and… it'll be as few as possible, but… as many as I have to." He looked on the verge of throwing up. "I'll kill as many people as I have to."

"I don't care."

Jamie stared.

"If it's you or them," Nick said, "choose yourself. I don't care how many people it takes."

"I do."

"I know."

There was silence. Jamie needed words in ways Nick didn't have them, and Nick didn't know how to do this. But he wanted Jamie to understand.

"I'm not human," Nick tried. "I don't want to be. But I think… that should make a difference, shouldn't it?"

Jamie watched him, but said nothing.

"You care," Nick said. "It matters to you, what you do. And that should… matter."

"Does it, though?"

Nick shrugged. "If you want redemption, talk to someone else."

Jamie grinned. It was a small smile, but it made Nick feel lighter anyway. He scowled. "In fact, why _are_ you talking to me? Don't talk to me about your feelings, Jamie. I have no interest in your feelings."

"I'll stop talking about my feelings when you stop showing me your knives," Jamie said. "Please? I swear, I will never speak of such things again."

Nick snorted. "I live in hope."

*

They talked about things that didn't matter, for a while. Stupid, little things, like why Emily Bronte should die in a fire, and whether or not Nick could take Chuck Norris in a fight. Halfway through his own dissertation on ninjas, Jamie fell asleep. Nick stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then he got up and went to find a blanket. He turned the light off as he came back in, and left the sheets on the end of the couch. Jamie rolled over and stretched out in his sleep. He seemed better, but Nick felt useless anyway. Jamie still looked small and vulnerable, and Nick couldn't protect him. Just like he couldn't protect Alan. Nick crossed his arms and pulled them tight against himself, hands clenched. He glared around the room, like he was searching for a threat. He couldn't do anything for Jamie, but something kept him from leaving.

"Nick?" Jamie asked, sleepily. "Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"You're looming. Why are you looming at me?" Jamie paused, as if contemplating it. "Nick, were you watching me sleep?"

"Uh," said Nick.

Nick could see Jamie's horrified face even in the dark.

"Nick, do not watch me sleep! Go to bed!"

"I was already _in bed_ until some lunatic came knocking on my door in the middle of the night."

Jamie ignored him. "I swear, if you start thirsting for my blood and _sparkling_, I will let the werewolves have you. I really will."

Nick snorted. "I doubt that."

"You'll be sorry," Jamie said, closing his eyes.

"Werewolves don't exist."

"Oh," said Jamie. "Silly me."

Then he went back to sleep.


End file.
